


Science is Badass and Latin is NOT a Dead Language

by Crissped



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, Teacher Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher Dean Winchester, Teacher!Dean, teacher!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crissped/pseuds/Crissped
Summary: Dean Winchester the science teacher has a one-night stand with a Hot Guy, who leaves before Dean wakes up in the morning. So what happens when Dean comes to realize that they both teach at the same school?Also known as endless fluffy tropes and domestic bullshit to make me happy. Feel free to enjoy with me.(Also why do people think Cas should teach history? Cas is totally a Latin nerd.)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

Dean wakes up with a snort, rubbing the place on his arm where he’d just been hit by a book.

“Get up, jerk. You were the one who wanted to watch the game at my place.” 

As Dean gets his bearings, he remembers that Sam’s right. He was the one to set up plans to watch football at Sam’s, and he had promptly fallen asleep halfway through the game. 

“Ah. Sorry. Haven’t been getting a lot of sleep,” Dean says, slapping himself on the cheek. Sam, ever the empath, turns down the volume on the TV. 

“How come? I thought things were going well with the new job and everything,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, sort of. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the school seems great. But I’m just not liking this curriculum. I can’t get it to be fun for me, which means that any kid who I teach it to is gonna hate it, y'know? I’ve been staying up late rewriting it over and over.”

Sam nods slowly. “I get that, but… it’s anatomy, Dean. I don’t know how cool it can be.” 

“Science is badass, Sammy,” Dean retorts. “It tells you how to kill people effectively. And how to keep people from bleeding out. And where to punch a guy to do the most damage.” 

Sam raises an eyebrow.

“And you need to know that why?” 

“I don’t _need_ to know it,” Dean says. “But it’s cool.” 

Sam laughs. “Why don’t you teach lessons like that, then?” He points out.

Dean starts to say how ridiculous that would be, teaching a group of freshman and sophomores how to kill people, but he stops. 

“Actually… that might be pretty interesting. That could be like… a theme for the class. Like, the science of serial killers. How to kill people, science version.” 

Dean grins. 

“Thanks, Sammy!” 

Sam gives him a thumbs-up, accompanied with one of his signature "whatever, you do you" looks.

“Glad to be of use. Can we get back to the game now?” Sam says. 

“Yeah, sure. Sorry.” 

Sam turns the volume back up, and Dean turns his attention back to the game, but his head is full of ideas on how to rewrite his curriculum before the school year starts. 

When Dean gets home, he heads straight for his computer. He pulls up the folder with all of his curriculum material in it: slides, assignments, and the list given to him by the school of what topics to cover over the year. He deletes all of his slides -- a painful task, given that there over 30 of them -- and pulls up the topics list and a good old-fashioned piece of paper. He writes down how he’s going to introduce the class first, then he sifts through the list, finally feeling excited to teach the material. 

Dean stays up until late at night making his plan, then as soon as he wakes up the next day (which isn’t particularly early, to be fair), he starts on his slides and assignments. That’s how he spends the next several days, with some intermissions for food and bathroom breaks -- plus one visit from a concerned Sam. But, at the end of the week, when Dean sits back to look at all of his finished lesson plans and adjust the last picture on his last slide, he groans out loud with relief. 

“Did it,” he whispers to himself. He glances at his phone. 9:45 PM, it reads. Dean stands up, flushed with the adrenaline and pride from getting this damned curriculum off of his chest. If he gets in the shower right now, he could be at a bar at like… 10:30? And Dean could really use a celebratory drink for finishing this stuff. 

He leaps through the shower, grabbing his favorite pair of jeans and a shirt that clings just right on his arms and chest (according to most of the women who’ve seen him in it, anyway). Dean is still riding his success high as he gets in his car and pulls away from his apartment complex. He’s just coming down as he pulls into the parking lot of the nearest bar to his place, according to Google maps. 

Dean opens his door and gets out of his beloved Impala, staring at the bar in front of him, hearing loud bass coming from the building. In his itch to get a drink and be out of his damn apartment, he didn’t bother checking the name of the bar he was driving to. The neon letters above him spell out “HOTTHROB”. He assumes it’s a play on heartthrob. Suddenly he feels grounded in the warm air and the solid pavement, coming to the realization that maybe finishing a year’s worth of teaching material wasn’t really that big of an occasion. Still, he finds himself walking towards the front doors. 

As Dean opens the doors, it feels like he’s hit with a wave of glitter and the strong smell of alcohol. Music bursts out of the doors and seems to envelope Dean as he enters the bar. It’s pretty busy for a Thursday night, even in the middle of the summer. Dean finds himself winding through a mass of bodies as he makes his way to the front and takes a seat at the bar. Luckily, most of the crowd seems to be gathered around the dance floor, so there’s not too many people sitting at the bartop. Dean waves down the bartender.

“What can I get ya, brother?” The bartender asks with a thick southern accent. 

“Got any good whiskey?” Dean asks. The bartender -- Benny, his nametag reads -- laughs. 

“Nah, not really. This ain’t exactly the place for decent whiskey.” 

Dean furrows his brow before realizing how stupid he is. The realization that he’s sitting in a gay bar hits him like a bucket of cement. He feels his cheeks heat. 

“So, any other preference?” Benny asks. 

“Um, whatever’s good is fine,” Dean responds awkwardly. Benny nods and moves away to make some mystery drink, but Dean is preoccupied. He knows he’s not straight, but he hasn’t exactly faced that thought in solid terms. He dated a guy in college, but it ended before it really got serious. He hadn’t even mentioned it to Sam, let alone anyone else. Since then, he’s just kind of squashed his sexual wanderings down under layers of meaningless hookups with women -- and one good relationship, but that ended a while ago. 

Now, here Dean is, surrounded by handsome men and alcohol. He figures that there’s no reason to let his semi-unknown sexuality dampen his spirit, though. It’s not like he was planning to go home with anyone anyway. 

Just as Dean has reclaimed his spirit and confidence, Benny returns with what looks like a Long Island iced tea. There’s a red-and-white straw sticking out of it, and Dean swears he can almost completely see through it. 

“Damn, how strong is this?” He asks Benny. 

“Made it plenty strong for ya. No extra charge,” Benny says with a wink. 

“Thanks, man. No better way to celebrate than getting plastered.” 

Benny nods, toasting with an empty glass he’s holding in a rag. 

“What is it you’re celebrating, if you don’t mind my askin’?” 

“Does it matter?” Dean asks, taking the straw out from his drink and taking a gulp. He recoils slightly. “Man, you weren’t kidding. This is strong.” 

“I could use strong,” comes a deep voice from next to him. Dean turns to see a man in a trenchcoat glaring at himself in the reflection behind the bar. Benny turns his attention to the newcomer.

“Sure thing. What can I get you?” Benny asks. 

Dean barely registers Benny’s question. He’s too busy staring at the pissed-off guy sitting next to him. Dean’s eyes trail from the guy’s dark, tousled hair down to his piercingly blue eyes before lingering on his lips. As the guy turns his head, Dean realizes he’s been staring like a creep and faces forward, taking another big gulp from his drink. Dean sees the guy look at him for a moment before answering Benny’s question. 

“Whatever’s got the most tequila,” he answers in his gravely voice. Dean can’t help but wonder if that’s a side effect of his bad mood, or if he always talks like that. He takes another sip of his drink. He notices that the more he drinks, the more he wants to stare at the handsome man next to him. 

“I mean, the Long Island has probably got the highest concentration aside from straight tequila shots,” Benny says, gesturing to Dean’s now half-empty drink. The guy nods.

“Fine.” 

Benny turns to fix another drink as Dean turns towards the mystery man. 

“So what happened?” He asks. He realizes that he’s being rude by asking like that, but he thinks that maybe that’s because he shouldn’t have had so much of his drink so fast. The guy doesn’t seem to mind, and Dean takes another little sip from his glass.

“I was fired. My boss was homophobic, which I didn’t know until she found out I’m gay.” 

“Oof. I’m sorry, man. That sucks.” Dean reaches out and pats the guy on the shoulder, noticing how deceptively strong the arm hidden under the trenchcoat is. Dean puts the straw back in his drink and sips from it as the hot guy turns to look at Dean properly. The hot guy stops and stares at Dean's face, and Dean notices the angry look slip off the guy's handsome face. 

“What?” Dean asks, lifting a hand to touch his lips. “There something on me?” 

The guy follows Dean's hand to his lips before snapping out of it and shaking his head.

“No, I’m sorry. There’s nothing on you,” he says, turning back to face the bar. Benny returns with his drink. 

“Here you go, brother. I heard you were fired by some homophobe, so I made yours a little stronger too.” 

The guy nods in thanks and takes a drink from his swirly straw. Dean stares at the way the hot guy's lips purse around the straw.

“Hey, I got a strong drink too. Cheers,” Dean says, grinning wider than he means to and lifting up his drink to the hot guy. 

Hot Guy lifts an eyebrow but clinks his glass to Dean’s. 

“So what’s your name?” Dean asks, faintly noticing that he’s definitely more than a little buzzed at this point. 

“Castiel,” Hot Guy says in his hot voice. 

“Cool,” Dean says. “Mine’s Dean.” 

Hot Guy Castiel nods.

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” 

One more Long Island and half a margarita later and Dean is barely following the conversation he and Hot Guy are having. He thinks that Hot Guy told him his name, but he can’t seem to remember. 

“And I thought she was being nice. She was giving me a better classroom next year, because the one I was in was always cold, and smelled funny. But she asked me out on a date and I realized that she wasn’t being friendly. And I told her and she got mad.” 

Hot Guy’s words were slurring at this point, too. He’d ordered a margarita when Dean did, which meant that Dean was definitely more drunker. Or, more drunk. Drunker? Dammit, Dean isn’t an English teacher. This thought brings him back to the conversation, and prompts him to say:

“Oh, you’re a teacher? I’m a teacher. That’s funny.” 

Hot Guy turns to him with a tilt of his head.

“You’re a teacher? What do you teach? I teach Latin. It’s stupid sometimes.” 

Dean nods raptly before realizing that there was an answerable question in there.

“Science,” he says. “Science is badass.” 

Hot Guy responds, but Dean is too busy watching the way his lips move to pay any attention. Way back in his head he remembers not wanting to go home with anyone, and feeling weird about guys, but drunk Dean can’t seem to muster a fuck. 

“You’re hot,” he blurts out, interrupting Hot Guy’s sentence. Hot Guy stares at Dean for a second, slowly finishing off his margarita before replying. Dean stares at the way Hot Guy's tongue slips out to catch some of the salt on the rim of the glass.

“You’re also hot. Very hot. But you seem… straight.” 

Dean’s back straightens. He hadn’t realized he was practically laying his head in his arms on the bartop.

“I am so not straight! Guys are so hot! I won’t even tell my brother this but I always watch the guy in porn because they look less like they’re faking it.” Dean realizes halfway through the sentence that he really shouldn’t say that out loud, but it’s already out of his mouth. He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed, though, because Hot Guy is leaning into his personal space. 

Dean can smell the lemon and alcohol on Hot guy’s Breath. Dean notices he has stubble, just enough to be distracting, and Dean can’t help but want to feel its roughness. Dean also can’t help but notice that Hot Guy is staring right at Dean’s lips. 

“You’re really not straight?” 

The sound of Hot Guy’s quiet gravely voice sends a shiver through Dean’s spine in the best way. He feels himself leaning in closer to the Hot Guy’s face unintentionally, like being drawn in by a magnet. A very hot magnet. 

“Promise,” Dean whispers, stopping an inch or so from Hot Guy’s face. 

“Prove it,” Hot Guy whispers back. The hot breath on Dean’s lips in combination with the challenge posed by this very attractive man is enough to convince him to close the gap between the two. 

The kiss doesn’t last very long, but it feels like it does. As Dean’s lips meets Hot Guy’s, Dean can feel his stubble rubbing delightfully on his chin. Hot Guy’s lips taste like the salt on the rim of the margarita, and Dean can’t help but suck a little of it off as he pulls away. The Hot Guy follows him a bit before breaking the kiss. Dean’s eyes stay closed for a second before he feels the Hot Guy grab his shirt.

“I don’t normally do this,” Hot Guy says, seeming less confident than he had a moment ago when he was challenging Dean’s sexuality. “But would you like to… get out of here?” 

Dean can’t help but giggle at the way those words sound on Hot Guy’s tongue, like he had heard them in a movie and was testing them out for the first time. But as Hot Guy’s face changes, Dean realizes he must have assumed Dean was laughing at the question. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Dean says quickly. “Dude, you are seriously so hot. Trust me. Let’s get the hell out of here.” 

Hot Guy’s smile returns to his face as he gets up from his barstool, stumbling a little. Both men reach into their wallets and leave Benny a generous tip before pulling each other out of the bar. 

As the two stagger into the street, Dean realizes he certainly can’t drive in this state, and neither can Hot Guy. 

“Where are we going?” Dean manages. 

“My brother comes here a lot. He tells me there’s a cheap motel a block down this way,” Hot Guy says. Dean nods, but Hot Guy doesn't see, because Dean is being dragged behind him. Dean, feeling ignored, pulls Hot Guy back and kisses his neck. Hot Guy stops moving to let Dean wrap his arms around him and continue nibbling up his neck to his earlobe. Dean hears Hot Guy let out a quiet moan, just barely more than a breath. 

“Ooh, noisy, are you?” Dean asks. Hot Guy takes this opportunity to pull Dean’s arms off of him and continue moving forward. 

“You’ll find out,” Hot Guy says. Dean barely suppresses an excited giggle. 

Down the street, Dean sees the glaring motel sign. He speeds up, pulling Hot guy along with him, before being stopped. 

“What? I thought I was gonna find out,” Dean whines. Hot Guy smiles.

“You don’t happen to have lube on you, do you?” Hot Guy asks. Dean pats his pockets, although he already knows he doesn’t. He shakes his head and pouts.

“Then let me go grab some.” Hot Guy gestures towards the gas station that they’re standing in front of. 

“Oh. Yeah, you should do that,” Dean says with a sigh. Hot Guy walks right up to him, his warmth pulling Dean in closer. 

“Don’t get too bored while you’re out here,” Hot Guy says. “I promise I’ll be quick.” 

He finishes this off by pulling Dean in for another kiss, this one longer and leaving a guarantee of more to come. By the time he pulls away, Dean is very ready to be in the motel room with this guy. 

It seems like ages before he returns, but he does. Dean pulls him in for another kiss, pressing their bodies together. Hot Guy wraps his arms around Dean's back and leans deeper into the kiss before abruptly pulling away. 

"We'll be at the motel soon. Let's not do this in public," Hot Guy says, starting to walk away. 

Dean whines, but catches up to Hot Guy. The two walk down the street as quickly as they can without stumbling.

“Your brother tell you a lot about his hookups at this motel?” Dean asks. Hot Guy nods.

“Yes, unfortunately. He’s an interesting character.” 

“He seems like it. Although you seem like it too. You’re interesting, Hot Guy.” 

Hot Guy laughs. 

“It’s Castiel.” 

Dean is almost too distracted by the sudden appearance of his laugh to really register the name, but he realizes that he accidentally called him Hot Guy out loud and he didn’t want that to happen again.

“Aw, c’mon. I can’t pronounce that drunk,” Dean jokes. “How ‘bout Cas?”

Cas shakes his head.

“If you’re too drunk to pronounce _Castiel_ , we probably shouldn’t be doing this in the first place,” he says. The threat is enough to bring Dean to attention.

“No, no, I’m not that drunk! What is it again? I can say it,” he protests. Cas doesn’t answer, because he’s buying a motel room key. Dean wonders when they got to the motel. As Cas takes his hand and leads him to their room, Dean is still trying to convince him that he can pronounce his name. 

“Just say it one more time, I swear I can.” 

Cas shuts the motel room door behind them. He turns to Dean with a smile.

“Do you really think I would rent this room and bring you all the way here just to send you home again? I believe you can say my name. I just like Cas better.” 

Suddenly Dean realizes they’ve made it. They’re alone. In a motel room. Dean smiles, but Cas has a little more to say. 

“Plus, there’s no way I could send a guy like you home. You might be the hottest person I’ve ever met, and there’s no way I’m letting you go just like that.” 

Dean smirks and saunters over, leaning slightly over Cas, whose back was pressed up against the doorframe. 

“I would take more time to cherish that compliment if you weren’t so damn hot too.” 

Dean, now feeling in his element, hovers with his lips slightly above Cas’s, the breath from both of their open mouths mixing in the space between them. He’s reveling in the tension, the heat building between the two of them, when Cas decides he’s had enough. He closes the gap between the two, capturing Dean with his lips. Dean, caught by surprise, opens his mouth, which Cas takes full advantage of with his tongue. Dean moans, still too drunk to be more than a little surprised. Cas, now in control, pushes Dean back towards the bed in the center of the room. When Dean backs into the bed, he pulls Cas down on top of him. Cas pulls away and looks down at Dean, who can’t help but stare at Cas’s wet and plumped lips. 

“Cas,” Dean says quietly, meeting his eyes. Cas doesn’t say anything, but tilts his head inquisitively. “I want to fuck you so bad right now.” 

That’s the last coherent sentence Dean says that night -- although not the last time he says Cas’s name. 

The next morning, Dean wakes up to an empty bed and a headache. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy!
> 
> I haven't written fanfic in forever, and I just recently came back into spn. I wanted to read a story about these two being teachers and getting into fun antics with their students but I couldn't find exactly what I wanted, so I just decided to write it.
> 
> There won't be any major angst, character death, serious self-harm, or really anything serious. This is just a happy little corner of the internet for awkward moments and sweet, sticky fluff between the boys and their families (plus some healthy smut to come).
> 
> Also please leave comments I crave attention
> 
> :)


	2. Chapter 2

Dean arrives home the next day with his head still pounding, and his memories faint. He knows he went to a gay bar, where he left his car when he went to get a motel room with a hot guy. What was his name? Cas-something. As the name settles in his head, Dean faintly recalls moaning out ‘Cas’ last night, a memory accompanied by heat both to his cheeks and throughout his body. 

Dean pushes his apartment door open and heads straight for the shower. After he collected his clothes from the motel room floor this morning, he used the motel bathroom to wipe himself down a little, but there was much more cleaning to be done. 

He turns on the shower, allowing the water to heat up and fill the room with steam. As he starts taking his clothes off, he happens to glance at himself in the mirror and notice a pink hickey on his chest. Dean’s fingers brush over it, and he can't help but wish he remembered more from last night. He knows he had a good time, but he can't think of any real details aside from the guy’s name and what he looks like. Dean remembers staring at the guy’s face in the bar before he really got drunk. He had dark hair and blue eyes… and stubble, Dean remembers with a flush as he thinks about the roughness of Cas’s face on his skin. 

As Dean gets in the shower, he decides that it isn’t worth spending too much time on. He clearly hadn’t meant that much to Cas, because Dean had woken up to an empty bed. Dean realizes that as great of a time as he had, Cas might not have. Dean did have a lot to drink, after all… He grimaces, trying not to picture all of the ways that last night might have gone wrong. He settles in the fact that he can’t change anything about it now, and he probably won’t ever see Cas again. Hell, Dean might have given him his number if he had stuck around. Dean remembers thinking that Cas was interesting, and wanting to learn more about the handsome man. He tries to put it out of his mind, though. He would never have the chance now.

When Dean shows up at Sam’s door, he’s greeted by a surprised Jess. 

“Hey, Dean,” she says, standing to the side to allow him in. Dean slides past her.

“Jess! I didn’t think you’d be here.” 

“I could say the same about you,” Jess replies with a smile.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asks, looking around. As he asks the question, it’s answered by the loud steps coming down the stairs. 

“Dean!” Sam says, arriving at the bottom floor. “What are you doing here?”

Dean turns, noticing that Sam is dressed in nice clothes for 11 AM on a Friday. 

“Finally finished my lessons,” Dean says, taking in Sam’s khakis and button-up-shirt. He turns and notices for the first time that Jess is wearing a dress. “Oh, are you guys off somewhere?”

“Yeah, actually. We were planning to get brunch, since we both have the day off,” Sam answers.

“You’re welcome to come, of course,” Jess says quickly. 

“Nah, I don’t wanna third-wheel you guys. Plus brunch is for grandmas,” Dean says with a smirk, trying to hide the awkwardness he feels at almost crashing their meal. “I’ll let you two get back to your old-people date.”

He turns in time to catch Sam’s blush before it fades. 

“It’s not an old-people date. And at least I have someone to go on a date with!” Sam says, taking about four steps to cross the floor and reach Jess. Dean laughs, but he can’t help but realize that Sam’s right. Since he and Lisa broke up a couple years ago he hasn’t really had a long-term girlfriend, and constant one-nighters have started to wear on him. Last night being the exception, apparently. 

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving,” Dean says, turning and walking back out the door. Sam and Jess follow him, locking Sam’s house. The three of them walk to the driveway, Dean splitting off to the curb where he parked his baby.

“Hey, congrats on the lesson plan!” Sam calls after him, closing the door on Jess’s side after she climbs in. 

“Shut up,” Dean calls back. Sam grins as Dean pulls away, honking his horn. 

The next few days are uneventful. Dean spends it mostly lounging around the house watching TV, exchanging a few texts with Sam about how boring he and Jess are. Soon, it’s the day before classes start, and he starts to get jittery. He sends Sam a text when his nerves get the best of him.

Sent 11:06 PM: sam should I change my slides

Sent 11:07 PM: sam what if i get fired

Sent 11:07 PM: sam

Received 11:09 PM: Dean I’m trying to sleep

Sent 11:10 PM: no you’re not Jess is over

Sent 11:10 PM: should I change my slides

Received 11:11 PM: No. Go to sleep. 

Sent 11:12 PM: but :( 

Sent 11:17 PM: sam? 

Sent 11:23 PM: bitch.

Dean sighs, turning his phone off. He should probably at least try to sleep, but he can’t help but feel a little jealous that Sam has someone to turn to when he’s anxious. Maybe Dean needs a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or maybe he should figure out exactly what he’s looking for before he starts dating anyone. 

Dean closes his eyes, trying to distract himself from first-day nerves with the idea of putting a name to his sexuality. As he starts to drift off, his mind wanders back to those piercing blue eyes that seem to haunt his favorite dreams. 

When Dean’s alarm goes off in the morning, it isn’t soon enough. He practically jumps out of bed and through the shower, pulling on the outfit he planned out the night before (carefully chosen to hide his barely-there hickey) and taking an apple with him on the way out the door. He wasn’t hungry, but he figured he should take something just in case. Plus, apples are classic for teachers. 

As he pulls up to the school into the teacher parking lot, he can’t help but grin. He feels like he’s a kid again, doing something he loves for the first time. Granted, Dean never really spent a lot of time in one school as a kid because of his dad. When he did, though, he excelled. Now, he gets the chance to make a home at this high school. 

He gets out of his car, locking the door after him and bringing his bag of materials. He keeps a laptop and some other various supplies in there, just in case. He doesn’t want to be unprepared. He strolls into the school, using his new set of keys to unlock the entrance. 

Dean wanders through the building, trying to use the signs to find the science wing before giving up and picking a hall at random, hoping another teacher will be there. He passes a couple classrooms that are still dark before spotting one with someone in it. The sign outside the door reads ‘Ms. Bradbury,’ who Dean assumes is the woman hanging up decorations in the classroom with the bright red hair . He knocks on the door. Ms. Bradbury turns around, gesturing him in. 

“Hey, I’m Dean Winchester. I’m a new teacher here, and I totally forgot where the science hall is. Can you point me in the right direction or something?” 

She smiles, walking over to shake his hand firmly. 

“Charlie Bradbury, tech teacher. I’d be happy to show you around,” she says. Dean nods.

“Thanks. I want to get there before kids start showing up.”

Charlie glances at her watch. 

“You know school starts at 9, right? No kids are gonna be here until 8:30 at the very earliest. It’s only 8, dude.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted to be ready. It’s my first day,” Dean says, following Charlie’s lead as she walks out of the classroom. 

“It’s their first day too,” she says. “What class are you teaching, anyway? Something science, obviously.” 

Dean nods.

“Anatomy and physiology.” 

“Ooh, cool. I was never any good at science.” 

Dean follows as she takes a turn down a hallway. He notes the sign on the door that says ‘100-110’. 

“I was never that good at tech stuff. Maybe you only get one or the other,” Dean suggests. 

“Yeah, probably. Someone who’s good at everything is just too OP. Do you know which room number is yours?” 

“Umm…” Dean fumbles for his phone, checking his email. “101.” 

“Right here, my good sir,” she says, leading him to the last room in the hall on the left side. 

“Thanks,” Dean says, opening the door with his keys. “I’ll try to remember next time.” 

“No problem! Let me know if you need anything else. I’m in room 126,” Charlie says. 

“126,” Dean repeats back, determined to remember. Charlie gives him a mini-salute and turns back the other way, strolling confidently back to her classroom. Dean watches her walk away, already making plans to talk to her some more later. He turns to look into the room, noticing that the desks are arranged weirdly, and there’s a previous teacher’s stuff hanging on the walls. He starts in on fixing the classroom -- his classroom -- to how he likes it. 

By the time all of the desks are in the right order and the walls are bare of the previous teacher’s mementos, it’s almost 8:30. Dean quickly pulls out his laptop and hooks it into the projector, pulling up his first-day slides. As the clock strikes 8:35, he pushes down his nerves and replaces them with a layer of confidence. He rules this classroom now. He sits down in his swivel chair, propping his feet up on his desk and pulling out his phone, waiting for the first students to arrive.

He continues to browse the internet until his classroom is almost full, and the clock reads 8:55. He sets his phone down and looks out at the group of kids, most of them also on their phones or laptops. He makes sure the projector is displaying his first slide, which it is, and he stands up.

“Hey, so my name is Mr. Winchester. I’m teaching you guys anatomy and physiology this year.” 

Dean’s voice gets the attention of the kids, and most of them put their phones away and close their laptops. 

“I’m gonna take attendance, so I know if we’re waiting for anyone, but then I’m just gonna get into the meat and potatoes of this class.” 

Dean pulls out the list of names and starts reading them off, ticking the box for ‘present’ when he hears a response. He waits for that one kid to say ‘pre-sent’, because there’s always one who thinks that’s funny, but no one does. There’s only one kid absent, which he’s pretty happy about. By the time he gets through the list, the second bell has rung, so he assumes this kid isn’t going to show up. 

“Alright. Nice. So how many of you are freshmen?” Dean asks, seeing few hands go up. “Sophomores?” Even more hands. “Juniors?” More than freshmen, but less than sophomores. “And seniors?” Three hands go up in the back. 

Dean’s class is an elective, so there could be any number of kids from any grade. The majority seemed to be sophomores.

“Cool. So you guys took this class as an elective, which means you all like science.” 

Several kids nod their heads.

“Well, you’re correct. Science is b- awesome.” He cuts himself off from saying ‘badass,’ because he doesn’t want to get in trouble on his first day. “This class is a little different to some other ones you may have taken, because I’m going to tell you about how the body works and how you can use that information to defend yourself.” 

One kid sitting in the front tilts his head, interested. Dean also can’t help but notice the girl sitting next to him with her chin in her hand, who hasn’t stopped staring at him since she came into the classroom. 

“I’m going to tell you about how the movies get stuff wrong, and where to hit someone to do the most damage. Basically, I’m training you guys to be, like, cops.” He pauses. “Or serial killers.” 

A couple kids chuckle. 

“If you do become serial killers, just please don’t tell the cops that I’m the one who taught you this. Actually, let’s do a pledge.” 

Dean faces forward and raises his left hand.

“Everyone lift their left hand and repeat after me.” He waits for everyone to realize he’s serious. The last of the kids with their phones out finally pay attention after a jab in the side from the people sitting next to them.

“I solemnly swear,” Dean says, echoed by a chorus of voices, “That if I become a serial killer,” he pauses for the repeat, “I won’t blame Mr. Winchester.” They repeat. “Or tell the cops where I learned anything,” he adds. The kids repeat his words as Dean lowers his hand. 

“Alright, you’re bound now. This is a gentlemen’s agreement, and it cannot be broken.”

Dean sits back down, motioning for the kids to drop their hands.

“So, it’s the first day, and I don’t think you guys really want to learn anything in the first period of the day.” Most of the kids nod. “So I’m just gonna do some icebreakers to help me learn your names. And figure out which of you might snitch.” He lifts two fingers to his eyes, then turns them to the room. A couple kids giggle. Dean turns to his slides.

“Alright. This first game…”

The rest of the day is pretty standard. Dean does this whole spiel for his other three periods, and he feels pretty good about it goes there too. The games help him put some names to faces, and he’s already got a list of the students he thinks will be the best. 

Dean’s classes are in first, second, fifth, and sixth period out of the seven in a day, which means that he has a break in the middle of the day and he gets out pretty early. After his last class ends, he hangs around for a while cleaning up his materials and wiping off the whiteboard before packing up for the day and locking his classroom. 

He decides that he wants to get a better idea of the layout of the school, so he walks around the first floor, looking down each hallway to get a better idea of where classes are. The science wing, obviously, is 100-110. History seems to be 111-121, tech and some of the arts are 122-132. When Dean looks down this hall he sees Charlie teaching, waving animatedly at a picture of some girl he thinks he saw in a TV show. The rest of the arts are 133-143. On the second floor, Dean starts with rooms 200-210, the ones directly above his. They seem to be languages, because he can’t understand half of the words posted in the hallway. English is 211-221, math is 222-232, and film and some other classes Dean can’t determine the identity of are in 233-243. 

Satisfied with his exploration, Dean heads downstairs and out to the parking lot. When he gets back to his apartment, he throws his bag on the couch and grabs some dinner from the fridge. Dean figures that he should probably bring lunch or something tomorrow, because fasting for the whole day isn’t going to work for him for long. Other than that, he’s pretty damn satisfied with his first day. 

The next day goes pretty much the same as the first, but a little less fun for the kids, because Dean starts actually getting into some material. He starts with teaching all of the basic systems before going into detail about any of them. This part is hard to make interesting, and he can tell, because many of the kids who seemed engaged yesterday are losing interest. Except the one girl in the front row of his first period, who Dean has determined is named Becky. He’s always a little unnerved at the way she holds eye contact like she doesn’t need to blink. As she’s leaving that day, Dean overhears a conversation between Becky and another girl who Dean thinks is named Anna.

“Mr. Winchester has _got_ to be the hottest teacher at this school,” she says.

“I don’t know,” Anna replies. “My friend told me that Mr. Novak is totally the hottest.” 

“No way,” Becky says.

The conversation continues like this, and Dean loses interest. At first he’s flattered, but then he realizes that these kids are probably 15 or 16, and them thinking he’s hot is a little weird. Dean wonders who Mr. Novak is, and if he’s as creeped out by being ogled by kids as Dean is. 

When lunch period finally rolls around, Dean decides to see where Charlie goes for lunch. He remembers she said her room was 126, and he makes his way over just in time to see her lock her door.

“Hey, Charlie,” Dean calls. Charlie turns around with a smile.

“Dean, right? What’s up?” She’s holding a bag that Dean assumes has her lunch in it. 

“I was wondering where the teachers eat lunch here. I didn’t really want to sit alone in my room for 45 minutes, y’know?” 

“Well, I don’t know about the other science teachers, but me and a few other people eat in Dorothy’s room. You’re welcome to join us,” she offers, walking towards Dean. Dean nods, following her.

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” he says. 

“Cool. Her room is 216, it’s on the second floor,” Charlie says, exiting the hallway with Dean in tow.

“She’s…” Dean struggles to remember all of the designated wings on the second floor. “An English teacher?” 

“Yep,” Charlie replies, starting up the stairs. “She likes to show her kids how badass women in fiction are. It’s pretty awesome.” 

Dean chuckles as Charlie leads the way to the English hall, opening the door to room 216. A group of three teachers are sitting on top of the desks, eating lunch and talking. 

“Hey, guys, we have a new recruit,” Charlie says, pulling Dean over to the group of teachers. Dean waves.

“Dean Winchester,” he says. “I teach anatomy and physiology.” 

The teachers respond with a variety of ‘Hi, Dean’, ‘Welcome,’ and ‘What’s up’. Charlie points to the man on the end.

“This is Garth Fitzgerald. He teaches the drawing and painting classes.” 

Garth, a small man whose face looks a little like a mouse, tips an imaginary hat and smiles widely.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, stuffing several pieces of chocolate into his mouth. That seems to be the only thing in his lunch.

Charlie points to the woman standing next to him.

“Dorothy Baum,” Charlie says. Dorothy raises her chin at him semi-warily.

“He’s cool, Dorothy. Chill,” Charlie says. Dorothy squints, but nods. 

“If you say so,” she responds. Charlie rolls her eyes.

“She’s a drama queen, but she’s cool too,” Charlie says, turning to the last person in the group. “That’s Ash. He teaches advanced programming.” 

The first thing Dean notices about Ash is that he has a mullet. Dean’s not sure how he can survive teaching a bunch of judgy teenagers with a look like that, but Ash doesn’t really look like he cares about what anyone thinks of him. His lunch seems to consist of a greasy hamburger and a bag of funyuns. 

“‘Sup, Dean,” Ash says with a nod. Dean returns it. 

“So, you teach anatomy? That’s cool. We do some anatomy drawings in my drawing class sometimes,” Garth says. 

“I bet,” Dean says, afraid to ask what kind of anatomy. 

Charlie sits down on top of a desk, pulling out her lunch. 

“Have a seat, Dean,” she says. “And welcome to the group!” 

Half an hour later, Dean is actually starting to feel like one of the group. Once Dorothy got over being wary, she settled down and joined the conversation. Dean decided that Charlie was right, she did seem cool. The four talked about first impressions for all of their classes, stuff they were excited to teach, and various bullshit. Eventually they reached the subject of students. 

“Oh, there’s this kid Becky in my first period who won’t stop staring at me. Seriously, I’m worried she’s gonna go blind,” Dean says. The others laugh.

“I think I had her in one of my classes last year,” Dorothy says. “She wrote a _seriously_ detailed short story about two dudes having sex. I got the feeling that she didn’t even write it for the assignment, she just already had it on hand.”

Charlie made a face. 

“So glad she’s not into technology,” she says.

“Amen,” Ash agrees with a nod.

Dean chuckles.

“I heard her tell her friend that I’m the hottest teacher at the school,” he offers. “But her friend said that some Mr. Novak is hotter. Do all of the kids at this school stare at us like that? It’s creepy.” 

Dorothy shrugs.

“Yeah, pretty much. Get used to it.” 

Charlie nods. Even Ash seems to agree.

“I don’t know, the kids in my classes aren’t like that,” Garth says. Charlie snorts.

“Maybe that’s because you don’t give them much to look at.” 

“Or, maybe it’s because I create a safe environment where they’re more interested in discovering things about themselves than looking at me,” Garth says, crossing his arms. Everyone laughs.

“Whatever you say, dude,” Ash says, taking a swig from his soda. 

“To be fair, you guys are all pretty hot,” Garth says. “And so is Novak. Did you see him? Where did they even find him?” 

The other three murmur in agreement. 

“I’m not even into guys and I can see how hot he is,” Charlie says with a shrug. “Dean, you should be flattered that you’re even in the running for hottest new teacher.” 

Dean laughs and shakes his head.

“I don’t want to be. It’s weird.” 

“Who is this Novak guy, anyway? I just saw him setting up his stuff yesterday morning,” Dorothy asks. 

“Apparently he got hired like a few days before the year started. I guess he got fired from his last job, but he’s a good enough teacher that he got hired right away anyway,” Charlie explains. “Plus we didn’t have a Latin department before, and all of the best schools do.” 

“Wait, he teaches Latin?” Dean asks. “Isn’t that, like, a dead language?” 

“I think the Pope speaks it,” Ash says. 

“I bet he’s a Jesus freak. What’s his first name again? I swear it was something crazy religious.” 

The first bell rings before anyone can answer Dorothy’s question. The teachers quickly pack up their stuff and leave for their respective rooms. Charlie splits off to take the back stairs, because she swears it’s quicker to get to her room. Dean tries to say goodbye, but the halls are almost immediately flooded with kids trying to get to their classes before the second bell. Dean makes his way through the crowd, wondering what’s up with this religious nut Latin teacher. He turns to go down the stairs, almost running into someone coming up from the first floor. 

“Sorry, I--” Dean starts, stopping when he meets a familiar pair of piercing blue eyes. Cas stares back at him, looking petrified. 

“Oh,” Dean whispers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o they meet again! will cas talk about why he left dean in the motel? will becky stop being creepy? and will dean's hickey finally go away?? find out next time on dragon ball z


	3. Chapter 3

Before Dean can think of anything to say, Cas is brushing past him. Dean turns, but Cas has disappeared in the crowd of students. Realizing that Dean is going to be late to his own class, he turns and continues quickly down the stairs, trying to calm his beating heart and shaking hands. He turns the corner into his hall, walking briskly through the sea of students. The chances have to be tiny, right? The probability that Dean and his hot one-night-stand end up working at the same place is pretty minimal. Suddenly Dean has a flashback to that night, and he remembers Cas talking about being fired by his homophobic boss. _‘Oh, you’re a teacher?’_ Dean remembers saying. Fuck, he’s an idiot. He probably could have put two and two together, with what Charlie said during lunch and what Becky said about a hot new teacher, but he hadn’t even considered the possibility. 

Dean sits down at his desk, a little out of breath. He pulls his shirt up to make sure that the hickey, still visible below his collarbone, is well out of sight. The second bell rings, and the last couple of students trickle in to the classroom. Dean has no time to think about this right now, as much as he would like to. Luckily, he’s already done this lecture twice today. 

“Today I’m going to talk a little about the different systems in the body before we go into them any deeper. Starting with the most important, the circulatory system.” 

As Dean’s autopilot takes over, he forces his mind to stay focused on the material instead of wandering to the encounter he just had. He does a pretty good job, and he manages to sink into the lecture to make it interesting. 

By the end of the class period, though, he swears he can feel a ghost of the memory of stubble brushing roughly against his neck.

After Dean’s last class is over, he waits for about a minute after the last student leaves to get the hell out. He figures that Cas might still have a class, and if he’s lucky, he can get out before he runs into anyone. He turns off the lights and locks the door, his bag over his shoulder. He backs into the door to push it open, turning as the door opens and running right into Charlie.

“Dude, what’s your rush?” Charlie asks.

“Oh, sorry, Charlie. I just wanted to get out early. To… beat traffic.”

Charlie squints her eyes.

“What traffic? School doesn’t end for another 45 minutes and it’s too early for rush hour. Why are you really leaving?” 

“Can I just tell you tomorrow? Don’t you have a class right now anyway?” Dean looks up the stairs that lead to the exit, hoping that no one else will come down them. Charlie glances at her phone, checking the time.

“Ah. Yeah. I was just, um, grabbing something I left in Dorothy’s room,” Charlie says. Dean turns his gaze back to her to see her face flush red. Dean’s eyebrows raise, and he notices that Charlie isn’t holding anything that she could have left. He’s about to ask her more questions when he hears the second floor door open. 

“Talk tomorrow,” Dean whispers as he pushes past Charlie. “Go teach your class.” 

Charlie seems grateful for the distraction and hurries away. Dean continues out the door, rushing to his spot in the parking lot and climbing into the Impala. As he pulls away, he sees the exit door open and Cas come out, checking behind him and looking around like he’s about to commit a crime. Dean wonders if that’s what he had looked like, and if Cas is wary for the same reason. Without taking the time to think about it, Dean drives out of the parking lot and straight home. 

When Dean arrives at his apartment, feeling both relieved and tense, he notices that the door wasn’t locked. He feels his stomach drop for a second before remembering that he’d given Sam a copy of the key.

“Sammy?” Dean calls, closing the door behind him. 

“Yeah,” he hears from the living room. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks, walking in to see Sam sitting on the couch watching TV. 

“I was waiting for you to get home. I want to take you out for dinner to celebrate your new job,” Sam says with a grin, rising from the couch. Dean raises an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t be a nice brother?” Sam says, grabbing his coat and pulling Dean back towards the door.

“Even if you did want to pay for my food,” Dean says as he shrugs Sam’s grip from his shoulder, “Why would you want to go at 4 PM on a Tuesday?” 

Sam stops and looks at his watch. 

“Man, you get out of work early.” 

Dean gives him a look.

“Just tell me what it is. C’mon, Sammy.” 

Sam sighs and leans on the back of the couch. 

“Well I wanted to tell you this in a better way, but… I’m planning to propose to Jess.” 

Sam looks up from the floor with a hesitant smile that reminds Dean of when Sam was little. Sometimes he would bring home something he’d turned in at school that he was really proud of, and he would always give Dean this look as he waited for Dean’s opinion. Dean grins, wide enough to hurt his cheeks.

“That’s awesome, Sammy!” he exclaims, pulling Sam into a hug. “Even as gross as you two are.”

Sam pulls away. 

“You better get used to her,” he says. “If you don’t like her, you gotta tell me now before I start planning family holidays.” 

“I like her a lot,” Dean assures him. “She’s exactly the person you need to wrangle you in. She’s the one, little brother.” 

Sam smiles, and Dean can see some moisture in the corners of his eyes. Dean’s eyes are a little misty, too. To balance it out, he gives Sam a hard smack on the shoulder, at which Sam winces. 

“Screw a nice dinner. Do you just want to order some pizza?” Dean suggests. Sam nods, wiping the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah. You order.” Dean rolls his eyes, but pulls out his phone nonetheless.

“And then she basically told me I was just like her dad,” Dean laughs. Sam groans.

“Dude, that’s _so_ gross,” he whines. “Didn’t you hook up with anyone normal, aside from Lisa?” 

“A few!” Dean says defensively. “I’m pretty sure, anyway.” 

Sam sighs, taking another bite of his pizza. They’d gotten their food about an hour ago, and had just reached the subject of the various women Dean has hooked up with in his lifetime. 

“For real, though. When was the last time you talked to someone you would actually date?” Sam says around a mouthful of food. Dean is about to brush it off with a joke, but he pauses. 

“Actually, I met someone at a bar recently that I would’ve liked to get to know better,” he says carefully. Sam swallows his pizza loudly, then speaks.

“What happened?” He asks. 

“We hooked up,” Dean replies, taking a bite of his pizza. Sam groans. “I really would have wanted to go on a date, though. But they weren’t there when I woke up the next morning.” 

“How come you brought them up if you knew they were just a one-time thing?” Sam asks. Dean swallows.

“Um, I just found out yesterday that we work at the same school.” 

Sam sits up from where he had been lounging on the couch cushions. 

“Are you going to ask them out?” Sam prompts, setting his pizza box down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Dean shakes his head, setting his food down too.

“I don’t think so. We just ran into each other yesterday, and they didn’t exactly seem like they wanted to talk about it.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Dean keeps his eyes trained on his closed pizza box, but he can see Sam staring at him out of the corner of his vision.

“Is there a reason we’re calling them a ‘they’, not a ‘she’?” Sam asks softly. Dean’s body tenses. 

“Because if there is, you know I don’t care, right?” 

Dean finally turns to look at Sam, who is staring at him seriously.

“You’re my brother. I don’t care who you like, man. Whether they have a dick or not, as long as they don’t act like one they’re cool in my book.” 

Dean smiles a little. 

“Thanks, Sammy.” 

Sam nods. There’s another brief pause. 

“So… are you gonna tell me about him?” Sam prompts, picking his pizza box back up. Dean shakes his head in exasperation. 

“What is it with you and my love life? Why do you care?” He says with a laugh, leaning back on the couch.

“I just want someone to talk shit about you with! Is that so much to ask?” Sam says with a grin. 

“Whatever,” Dean says with an eye roll. “His name is Cas. I don’t even know that much about him, aside from the fact that he teaches Latin and he’s really, really hot.” 

Sam throws his hands up.

“You finally have someone you actually want to date and the only thing you can say is that he’s hot? I give up.” 

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Dean says, mouth full of pepperoni, and he starts telling Sam a mostly PG-13 version of the night he met Cas. The more Dean had thought about that night in previous days, the more memories came back to him, most of them too descriptive for Sam’s delicate ears. He crops those out of the story he tells Sam, but the memory of Cas’s mouth all over Dean’s body is in the back of his mind the whole time. After he’s told Sam most of what he remembers, Sam nods like he’s made a decision.

“You have to talk to him.” 

“What?” Dean says. “Didn’t you hear the part where I got left alone in the morning? Whenever I do that to a girl, it always means ‘don’t call me’.” 

“Yeah, but you’re kind of a douche,” Sam says, earning a grunt from Dean. “Plus, you said he got fired from his last job for being gay. He’s probably worried that the same thing will happen here. Just talk to him about it.” 

“Hm.” Sam has a point, Dean has to admit. But he doesn’t like that the solution involves Dean putting himself in such a vulnerable spot. “Maybe.” 

Sam turns away, looking too satisfied with himself. Dean decides to rectify this by throwing a pillow at him as hard as he can. Sam, after recovering from his surprise, retaliates. This incites a pillow war, which ends when one of the pillows knocks Sam’s pizza onto Dean’s floor. 

“Hey!” They both say, reaching for the mess -- Dean because he doesn’t want pizza sauce on his floor, and Sam because he still wanted to eat some of that pizza. 

“See? This is what happens when you’re a coward,” Sam says, scooping the remnants of his pizza into the box.

“I’m not a coward,” Dean says, heading to the kitchen for paper towels. 

“I’ll remind you to talk to him,” Sam calls from the living room. “Don’t worry.” 

Dean wonders what the hell that could mean. 

The next day, he finds out. Throughout his first class, his phone is blown up with texts from Sam asking whether he’s talked to Cas or not. Even though his phone is on vibrate, the constant messages are still a distraction in class, and Dean has to put his phone on airplane mode until passing period.

Sent 9:48 AM: shut up!!! my students think I’m a hypocrite for telling them not to be on their phones in class!

Received 9:49 AM: Are you gonna talk to him?

Sent 9:49 AM: fine whatever if it’ll get you to stop texting me CONSTANTLY

Received 9:50 AM: Great. Let me know how it goes :)

Dean can almost feel the smugness emanating from Sam’s text, but he doesn’t care. He’s agreed to talking to Cas, and he knows Sam will be able to tell if he doesn’t. He feels a flutter in his stomach at the thought of talking to Cas today, but he squashes it. He still has a class to teach before lunch break. 

He doesn’t get another text from Sam during second period, thankfully. The looks he got from his students in first period when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing made him feel like he was the one who should be getting yelled at. Unfortunately, though, as the lunch bell rings, Dean knows he has to face Cas again. He doesn’t want to sneak out of the back exit every day, and he knows one of them will have to say something eventually. And he tries not to think about it, but a little further down he hopes Sam is right that Cas is just worried he’s going to get fired. Dean knows that hoping that won’t get him anywhere, though, so he locks his door and heads up the back stairs.

Cas’s room is the closest to the stairs, so when Dean comes out of the stairwell he immediately sees Cas’s lights on in his room. His back is turned and he looks like he’s sorting papers on his desk. He’s wearing a button-up shirt and tie, and a nice pair of pants that highlight his ass in the best way. Dean tries not to look as he knocks on the door. 

“Yes?” Cas asks, turning. He drops the papers he’s holding as he sees Dean standing in the doorway. Dean closes the door behind him as Cas scrambles to pick up the papers now scattered all over the floor.

“Hey. Can we talk?” Dean says, feeling like his heart is shaking his entire body with each beat. Cas clutches the papers to his chest in a messy pile, his face flushed pink, before nodding. 

“I suppose we should,” Cas says as he sets the papers down on his desk. Dean walks a little closer, leaning on a student’s desk. 

“So…” Dean starts, not sure exactly what to follow it with. Cas answers instead.

“This situation was unforeseen to us both, surely.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows.

“I didn’t know being a Latin teacher gave you free range on using complicated words for no reason,” Dean says with a smile. Cas’s face doesn’t change.

“My words are not that complicated,” he replies. Dean shakes his head, still smiling a little.

“Okay, sure. Whatever. Point is, we both work here now and we’re probably going to see more of each other, so we should figure out where we are so we aren’t trying to avoid each other forever.”

Cas nods.

“Yes, I agree.”

When he doesn’t say anything more, Dean starts again.

“And I wasn’t planning to tell anyone about you being gay or anything, just so you know,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. “I remember you got fired for that, and I don’t want that to happen again.” 

Cas’s expression grows surprised and slightly bemused.

“I’m surprised you remember anything I said that night. From what I recall, you were… incapactiated.” 

“Don’t act like I’m the only one. We both had plenty to drink,” Dean says with a smirk. “And that’s not the only thing I remember.” He winks, pleased to see Cas’s face flush. Cas’s eyes drift towards Dean’s chest and his face goes from a light pink blush to a deep red.

“I’m sorry about… that,” he says, gesturing to Dean’s collarbone. Dean looks down and sees his shirt has slipped down a little and the hickey Cas left there is peeking out. Dean pulls his shirt back up, chuckling.

“Don’t be. I like it,” he teases. Cas meets his eyes briefly before turning to shuffle the papers on his desk. 

“You were wondering where we are,” Cas says, his back still facing Dean. “I just got this job, and I don’t plan to lose it by being unprofessional.”

Dean nods to the back of Cas’s head. 

“Yeah, I get that.”

Cas turns back to him, taking in a breath. 

“So, to answer your question, we’re colleagues. There’s no reason to avoid each other, but I enjoy this job and I would like to keep it, so I plan to keep our relationship purely professional.” 

Dean looks at him, the lighter tone in the air now officially diffused. 

“Definitely. Sounds good. I mean, being professional and everything.” Dean shuffles uncomfortably. The silence sits for a moment, and Dean stands up and turns to leave. 

“And Dean.” Cas’s voice stops him, and Dean turns. “I appreciate you not telling anyone about my sexuality. You can expect the same from me.” 

Dean gives him a small smile, then turns back towards the door, pushing it open. As he walks back down the stairs to his room, he goes over the conversation in his head. He gets the impression that being ‘unprofessional’ doesn’t really mean being unprofessional, it just means that they can only be friends. He fights his disappointment, and tries to cover it with the relief that he doesn’t need to check that the coast is clear before leaving his classroom every day. As he unlocks the door to his room and enters, he pulls his phone out to text his brother. 

Sent 11:36 AM: okay I did it, you can leave me alone now

Received 11:38 AM: How did it go???

Sent 11:39 AM: he said he wants to keep it professional.

Received 11:40 AM: Oh. 

Sent 11:42 AM: yeah. I mean i get it, he doesn’t want to lose his job or anything.

Sent 11:42 AM: neither do I so it’s probably a good thing 

Received 11:43 AM: Yeah probably. And maybe he’ll change his mind

Sent 11:45 AM: yeah maybe. either way i got a class to teach and stuff so I’ll talk to you later 

Received 11:46 AM: Yeah definitely. 

Dean sets his phone down. He pulls out his lunch, trying to cram as much of it into his stomach as he can before the passing period bell rings. Dean plans to drown out this weird dejected feeling by distracting himself with food and his lesson plan for that day. But as the bell goes off and students flood the halls, and Dean starts setting up his projector with his slides, he knows that it’ll linger in the back of his mind for a bit. He can’t shake the odd middle-ground feeling that talking to Cas gave him, like the conversation wasn’t quite what he wanted but it wasn’t firm enough to feel like a total rejection. Being professional is stupid anyway. 

As his students settle into their seats, Dean settles on the idea that being professional doesn’t have to mean that he and Cas can’t be friends. And if Dean can’t date the guy, he’s at least going to learn more about him. As he starts his class, his mind is only half on the material. A good quarter is planning on what to say the next time he sees Cas, and the rest seems to be focused on the hickey hidden just below his shirt, a burning reminder of Dean’s unprofessionalism. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if uploads are slower for a bit! I'm a little busy w/ finals and all. in the mean time, what could charlie have been doing? ;)


	4. Chapter 4

The next day at lunch, when Dean walks into Dorothy’s room, he immediately wishes he hadn’t.

“Yeah, Castiel. I saw him yesterday. He seems pretty cool actually,” Charlie says, holding a sandwich. 

“Maybe we should invite him to eat with us,” Garth suggests. “I want to make sure he knows that he’s accepted. Having a friend group is really important to adjusting to a new job, you know.” 

Afraid to say anything out of fear of being dragged into the conversation, Dean just quietly sits on a desk and pulls out his lunch. 

“Hey, Dean,” Ash says. “Where were you yesterday?” 

“Um,” Dean says. “I had some grading to do.” 

“Dude, you already have assignments to grade this early? It’s the first week,” Charlie says. “My guys don’t get real assignments until next week.” 

Dean shrugs, not wanting to elaborate on this lie. 

“We’re talking about the new teacher. We found out why he was fired,” Dorothy says, but stops when Charlie smacks her lightly on the arm. 

“What?” Dean asks, noticing the death glare Charlie is sporting and the uncomfortable silence from the others. 

“He got fired for being gay,” Ash says, with no patience for tact. “These guys are worried about how you feel about that stuff.” 

Dean looks at Ash, then at the other three.

“Seriously? You think I’m the kind of guy who would have a problem with that?” 

“I don’t know,” Charlie says, looking sheepish. “You seemed fine the other day when I said I wasn’t into guys, but you also kinda seem like one of those guys who thinks two girls together are hot and two guys together are gross.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything for a moment. He’s a little shocked that that’s the vibe he gives off. Those guys are total shallow assholes.

“Exactly what about me makes you think I’m that kind of guy?” 

“Pretty Southern, pretty manly, pretty hot,” Dorothy says. “Those are the usual ingredients.” 

“Well, thanks for calling me hot. But no, I don’t have a problem with guys being together, and I already knew how Cas got fired. And if you insinuate that I’m a homophobic asshole again, we’re gonna have problems,” Dean says, trying to lighten the mood with a chuckle. 

“How did you know how he got fired?” Garth interrupts.

“‘Cas’?” Charlie adds. Dean’s face heats up, and he can feel himself start sweating. 

“Uhh…” Is the most intelligent thing he can think to say. 

“Do you know the guy or something?” Ash asks, seeming unbothered in comparison to the other three.

“We… met a little bit before school started.” Dean tries to mentally calm himself down in an effort to reduce the heat in his face, but it’s no use. “I didn’t know he worked here until the other day.” 

“You must know him pretty well to call him Cas,” Charlie says. 

“Not… not really.” 

When he doesn’t elaborate, Charlie pokes him.

“Did something happen between you two?” 

Impossibly, Dean’s face gets hotter. That seems to be all the answer Charlie needs.

“Oh my god! You’re dating the hot teacher!” She exclaims. Dean covers his face with one hand. 

“First of all, shh! There are kids around!” Dean glances behind them to make sure the door is shut, which it is. “And second of all, it was a one-time thing. Neither of us knew we would ever see each other again. We talked about it the other day, and he wants to keep it professional so he doesn’t get fired. Now can we talk about something else, please?” 

Charlie narrows her eyes.

“Dammit. If I knew you a little better, I would totally grill you. But _fine,_ I guess I’ll leave you alone.” She turns her body, but her eyes stay locked on Dean. “For now.” 

“Thank you for trusting us with your truth, Dean,” Garth says, patting Dean’s back. Dean drops his face into his hands.

“Sorry we thought you might be homophobic,” Dorothy says, seeming uncharacteristically apologetic. “That was pretty presumptuous.” 

“It’s fine,” Dean mumbles through his hands. “But can we move on now?” 

Ash chuckles.

“Alright, let’s give the guy a break. Charlie, you were talking about that kid in your tech class being a total dick.” 

Charlie groans.

“Oh my god, he was a total douche! I guess he already knows how to program some, so when I was having the kids make a calculator in Python today he added a function that sends you to a picture of a naked girl if you enter ‘boobs’.” 

The group moves on to discuss Charlie’s student, and Dean finally takes his head out of his hands and rejoins the conversation, eager for that discussion to be over. And somehow, despite all the awkwardness, Dean feels a little better. He glances briefly around at his group of new friends and knows that under all their teasing, they’re genuinely good people, and Dean’s grateful to have met them. 

“And cutting off circulation for how many minutes will cause permanent damage?” Dean asks, turning from the last of his slides to face his final class of the day.

“Four,” Dean’s students drone. 

“Right,” he says. “The lungs provide air to the blood, which gets oxygen to the brain. So, he assignment I have you guys doing this weekend is about a page long, explaining where the worst place to lose blood from a cut is and why. The info is on my page on the school website, and I’m giving you guys the rest of class to work on it.”

When he finishes his sentence, he hears some relieved mumbles coming from the class and he smiles.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. You don’t have to work on it today, but get it in by Monday.” 

He turns his projector off and sits down at his desk. Almost all of his students are either on their phones or laptops, talking to each other, or otherwise doing something almost definitely unproductive. Dean pulls his phone out and checks his messages, and sees one from Sam. 

Received 3:34 PM: Talked to Cas any more? 

Sent 3:52 PM: no and not planning to. we’ll keep it professional but we don’t have to be friends or anything, i don’t wanna make him uncomfortable 

Received 3:54 PM: But what if he wants to be more than friends and just doesn’t wanna get fired? 

Sent 3:55 PM: but what if he doesn’t want to be more than friends? and what if we do get fired?

Sent 3:56 PM: I’m just not taking the chance sammy 

Received 3:57 PM: >:( Stop being a wimp and talk to the guy. Tell him you like him and you want to get to know him better

Sent 3:58 PM: NO. and i’m not being a wimp i’m being respectful.

Dean is being a wimp. He doesn’t want to believe that Sam is right, that he might have a chance, because the fear of being rejected and making his work life awkward is too strong. So he holds on to the idea that he’s just respecting Cas’s space, and not going out of his way to talk to him is the best thing for them both. 

He’s just making this resolve as he checks his work email after class. He pauses after locking his door, noticing an email he hasn’t read. He clicks on it, leaning against the door behind him. He skims it. Working on togetherness of different subjects… overarching project this year… important connections… other teachers in the subject… Wait. Dean stops skimming and rereads the email. The principal wants ‘teachers in different subjects to work together to create an overarching project for the students in both subjects to work on this year.’ He skips to the bottom of the list and sees the pairings of subjects. His heart sinks as he sees “Biology and Latin” together. Why is the universe so against him? 

Dean continues down the list and sees that biology is also paired with a few other things, because there’s only one Latin teacher and there are multiple biology-science teachers like him. Hopefully, this means that Dean will get paired with one of the other teachers, but something tells him it’s not likely. 

Dean puts his phone away, looking up at the ceiling. Why is the world trying so hard to make him talk to this guy? What the hell? He sighs and turns towards the back exit. He’ll just have to hold onto the hope that Cas will get paired with another science teacher. 

Right as he’s thinking that, he opens the door and runs into -- who else -- Cas. 

“Oh, hello, Dean,” Cas says.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you back there,” Dean says awkwardly. Cas continues towards the exit and Dean, not sure how else to continue without making things even more uncomfortable, walks with him. 

“Of course not. I was behind the door, which humans are incapable of seeing through.” 

Dean chuckles a little, not sure if he’s joking or just informing. 

“Yeah, that’s true.” This is followed by silence as the two enter the parking lot, heading towards their cars. “Did you see that there’s a staff meeting tomorrow morning about that project?” Dean continues in an attempt at breaking the awkward silence. 

“I did. I noticed that your department and mine are paired together.” 

“Yeah, there are a lot of pre-med students who take science and Latin. They kinda just match.”

“I suppose they do.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything in reply, but he looks over at Cas, who is looking straight ahead. The sun is shining off his dark hair, still as tousled as that night in the bar. His eyes are shockingly blue when reflecting the light, and Dean can’t help but admire them. Cas turns to look at him, but Dean stops walking when he reaches his car.

“See you in the meeting tomorrow,” Dean says. Cas nods, turning and continuing on towards the back of the parking lot. Dean watches him walk away, trying really hard not to stare at his figure. When Cas is far enough away, Dean gets into his car and sighs, rubbing his forehead before starting up the engine. He needs to spend as little time with that guy as possible, or else he knows he’s gonna do something stupid. 

The next day, all of the staff members arrive early for the meeting. It’s Friday, and Dean’s classes are going to be half-dedicated to working on the homework assignment for this weekend, so he’s ready for an easy day and for this meeting to be over as quickly as possible.. He strolls into the conference room and quickly finds Charlie, taking the seat next to her. They chat about the project and their plans while the rest of the teachers make their way in. Dean sees Cas is already there, and he tries not to make too much eye contact, although Charlie notices his brief glances. Garth, Dorothy, and Ash arrive late enough that they have to sit on the other side of the room, so it’s up to Charlie alone to probe Dean for information. Her mouth opens to ask something that Dean probably won’t want to answer when Principal Crowley walks in. 

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he says. Dean doesn’t really know much about the principal, but he seems pretty laid back from his attire. The only interaction he had with the guy was in an interview a few months ago, and back then he thought the guy might be kind of a dick. 

“So, you should all know why I’ve gathered you here. The district, a.k.a. my bosses, think that it would be a good idea for different departments to get to know each other better, and create connections between subjects. I paired these subjects in the email you got yesterday, and today I’m telling you a little more about the project and exactly which teacher you’ll be working with. Any questions before I begin?”

Dean can’t tell whether or not he likes his boss. No hands go up and no one speaks, so Crowley continues.

“Here’s the list of who’s working with whom.”

He gestures towards the screen, now showing a large spreadsheet in alphabetical order. Dean skips to the end and sees ‘Winchester - Novak’ on the board, and he feels his stomach shrivel a little.

“If you have an issue with the teacher you’re paired with, let me know, and I will _personally_ ,” Crowley says, placing a hand on his chest, “tell you to get over it.” Dean decides he definitely doesn’t like this guy. And now he’s stuck with Cas, dammit. 

He looks across the room and sees Cas’s terrified expression turn to a blank one as he meets Dean’s eyes. Dean summons a professional smile and nod, and Cas nods in return, but his face stays stoic. Oh boy, this ought to be fun. 

Dean listens to Crowley’s speech and instructions for the project, all apparently also to be emailed out, which Dean can’t help but feel makes this meeting completely useless. He knows Charlie is staring at him, and he turns to see her sporting a huge grin. He shakes his head and mouths ‘shut up’. Her grin widens, but she turns back to Crowley, and Dean does the same. He seems to be almost done talking, and Dean is itching to get out of that room and away from Charlie’s incoming interrogation. 

“I believe that’s all for today. Run along then, children,” Crowley says, turning off his projector. Everyone stands up, and Dean tries to slip away through the crowd as people funnel out of the room. He hears Charlie call his name, but he’s already in the hallway making his way back to his room before the bell rings. 

“Lunch, Winchester!” Dean hears through the bustle. He throws a glance and a smile back to see Charlie pointing a finger at him from the opposite end of the hall. He shakes his head at her and follows the crowd out the hall, letting the current of people carry him down the stairs. 

As soon as all of his students leave his room for lunch, Dean calls Sam to rant about the happenings of the morning. 

“Yeah,” Sam answers. 

“Hey, Sammy. So you know how I said I’m trying to avoid that guy? Well guess who I’m paired with for this stupid year-long project the district is making us do.” 

He hears Sam’s laugh.

“Dude, seriously. The universe is on my side. Now you have to talk to the dude,” Sam says. 

Dean shakes his head, although he knows that Sam can’t see him.

“Shut up. This is a problem! What if we fuck it up because we can barely hold a conversation and we really do get fired for sucking at our jobs?”

“And you really think that’s gonna happen?” Sam’s tone is full of doubt. Dean doesn’t say anything for a second.

“...Probably not, no. But what if it does?” 

Sam doesn’t respond, which gives Dean a second think about what he’s saying.

“Shut up. I know,” Dean says. 

“I literally didn’t say anything,” Sam laughs. 

Dean’s about to say something hopefully smarter than ‘shut up’ when his classroom door opens. He sees Charlie’s grin, followed by Garth, Dorothy, and Ash. He shakes his head at them.

“I gotta go, Sammy. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Talk to him first,” Sam says. Dean groans and hangs up the phone on Sam’s giggle. 

“What’s up, guys?” Dean asks innocently, turning to his friends, now standing in front of his desk. 

“We heard about you being paired with your one-nighter,” Ash says helpfully. Dean stands to lead them to the door, but Charlie’s hand stops him behind his desk.

“We’re here to help,” she says.

“I don’t need help.” 

All four of them give him a doubtful look. 

“I saw how you two were looking at each other when you got paired,” Charlie says. “You both need some help.” 

“There’s no shame in accepting help, Dean,” Garth says, reaching out to pat his shoulder. Dean leans back to avoid it. 

“Fine. Whatever. What do I need help with?” 

The group look at each other.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious by the way you two were both terrified to have to spend time with the other,” Dorothy says. “You’re crushing on him. And he’s crushing on you back.” 

“No, I -- what? You think _he’s_ crushing on _me_?” 

Charlie snickers.

“Of course, dumbass. You saw how scared he was to be paired with you, right? Plus he did want to hook up with you at one point. And you’re pretty hot. He definitely has a big ol’ gay crush on you.” 

Dean blushes and sits back down in his chair.

“You think? You should have heard him talk about being professional the other day.” 

“No reason you can’t be professional and date at the same time,” Dorothy says. Dean catches her eyes flick barely over to Charlie. Dean looks at Dorothy, then Charlie, then back to Dorothy. 

“Oh, we are talking more about that later,” Dean says. Charlie looks at Dorothy then back at Dean, her face a little pink too. 

“So what’s your plan for the p-” 

Charlie is cut off when there’s a knock at Dean’s door. The door opens to reveal Cas’s face.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Cas says, looking a little surprised at the congregation of teachers in Dean’s room. “But I thought it would be a good idea to talk about the project over the weekend. I would like to get ahead of it, if that is agreeable,” Cas says, looking at Dean. All five teachers just stare at him for a second before Charlie speaks. 

“That’s a great idea. Why don’t you guys trade numbers?” 

Dean shoots Charlie a death glare. 

“That is probably the best option,” Cas says, stepping into the room and pulling his phone out. Dean grabs his too, and they quickly exchange numbers. Dean can feel the sweat on his back, and he hopes that it isn’t showing on his face. 

“Yeah, uh, text me later,” Dean says. Cas nods and stands there for another second, looking like he wants to say something else, but he glances at the other teachers in the room and seems to decide not to. He nods again, which Dean thinks is adorably awkward, and leaves without another word. 

Dean watches the door close and stares after Cas for a second before the silence is interrupted by Dorothy.

“Oh my god, that was awkward. Also he totally does like you.” 

Dean, jolted back to reality, turns to his friends.

“What? He just said he wants to work on the project.” 

Ash laughs.

“C’mon, man. Even I can see the sexual tension here.” Ash waves his hand through the air like he can feel the tension, and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up. Like I said, he told me he wants to keep things professional. He’s just getting ahead of the curve on this thing.” 

“Yeah. Whatever,” Charlie says. “You’re gonna have to update us. I’ll make a groupchat.” 

Before Dean can dispute this idea, Charlie has pulled her phone out and started typing. Dean reluctantly puts his number in, and he’s rewarded with a huge grin from Charlie. 

“I’m excited to hear about your weekend date,” Charlie says. “You’d better update us.” The others nod silently. Dean rolls his eyes again. 

“Shut up,” he says petulantly, realizing that he might eventually have to find something else to say. As he finishes his word, the bell rings as if to punctuate his sentence. The other teachers look at the clock above Dean’s desk and disperse, with various goodbyes all meant to remind Dean of his new weekend plans. Dean can feel that his face is hot, but he does his best to ignore it. As the teachers leave his room, students begin to enter. 

“Do teachers really eat lunch together?” One of Dean’s front-row students ask. Dean laughs, relieved to hear a question that isn’t about his previous hookups.

“No, we eat lunch in dark corners or bathroom stalls. Yes, we’re people. We talk.” 

“Do you talk about us?” A student further back asks. Dean hesitates with a smile on his face.

“Sometimes,” he settles on. The true answer is _all the time_ , when they’re not talking about Dean’s love life, but he doesn’t want to expose the consistency of teacher gossip sessions. Even this answer seems to stir the students. 

“What?” Dean continues. “You guys are fun to talk about.” 

That doesn’t help. The quiet murmur becomes an alarmed buzz.

“Alright, alright, calm down. It’s not always bad talk. Also, you’re on my time now, and I gotta teach you guys.” This gets the kids to calm back down. The second bell has rung, which means that Dean needs to get back to business. Turning on his projector and pulling up his slides, Dean starts off his lesson again. 

Towards the end of his class, Dean is lounging in his chair, not really paying attention. He gave the kids a significant amount of time to work on their assignment, if they wanted to, which a lot of kids don’t. Dean made it clear in the beginning of the year that as long as the work got done, he didn’t really care if they worked in class, so he’s not mad or surprised that a good portion of the kids are just using their phones. Dean himself has his out. 

He looks up from scrolling twitter to survey his room. Everything looks fine, except a few kids in the back. Dean squints his eyes and watches them a little closer. They’re all jocks, probably going to college on a football scholarship, and only taking this class because in previous years it was an easy A. Three of them don’t seem like they’ve really paid any attention at all this week, but the other one Dean has seen taking notes. 

The thing that drew his attention was catching the word ‘fag’. They’re one of the only groups talking, so he can make out their conversation pretty well, even from the front of the room. He thinks their names are Kyle, Dylan, and Cooper, and one he can’t remember. Probably Chad or something. They’re all laughing at what Chad said, but something seems off about Dylan’s laugh. Dean wonders if he might be the only one with a conscience, which is nice, because Dylan is the one who seems to pay attention in class. Dean rests his chin on his hand and leans on his desk, looking away, trying to seem casual while he eavesdrops. 

“What’s wrong with you, Dylan? You saw that dude in ballet, right?” 

Chad shoves Dylan playfully, and Dylan smiles halfheartedly. 

“Yeah, I saw him,” Dylan says. “Total… fag.” He swallows before saying the words. 

“For real,” Kyle says. “What kind of self-respecting guy does ballet?” 

Chad and Kyle laugh heartily again, although Dean doesn’t even get where the joke would be. Dylan and Cooper aren’t really laughing, though. 

“To be fair, what if he’s just doing it to meet ballet girls?” Cooper asks. “Honestly wouldn’t blame him for that.” 

The other boys laugh. 

“No, trust me, dude,” Kyle says. “He was _enjoying_ it. For sure.” 

Cooper shrugs. “Whatever. Live and let live.” 

Kyle shakes his head.

“I don’t know, man. Seeing dudes kiss other dudes in public just seems, like, gross. Plus, my parents said it’s because of some mutation, and we probably shouldn’t encourage the reproduction of that, right? That’s just Darwinism or whatever.” 

Those kids definitely need a good punch. But Dean reminds himself that he’s a teacher, and he can’t assault his students, no matter how much he may want to. The conversation seems to move on from there, and Dean looks back at the group. Everyone is smiling again, but Dylan’s fades as he makes eye contact with Dean. Dylan looks away quickly, and Dean swears he sees a faint pink tinge to his cheeks. 

When Dean gets home, he collapses on his couch, turning on the TV. This has been an exhausting first week of classes. He hopes that the next few will be a little less stressful, although he doubts it, because now he has to spend the rest of the year working with Cas. Seeing him every day and having to be “professional” might drive him a little crazy. The dude is seriously hot, and the fact that he doesn’t even seem to realize it makes him even hotter. Most of the memories of their night together that had the potential to come back have, and those memories haunt Dean when he’s alone. Enough is missing that he can’t recreate a perfect picture, but there are plenty of little bits that can help make a pretty realistic fantasy. Doing so has become a dirty habit of Dean’s. He doesn’t want to be thinking about his coworker that way, but knowing they hooked up and not being able to remember any of it culminates in the worst kind of cocktease. 

Dean stares blankly at the TV, not even registering what’s happening on it. He turns it off and sighs, unable to get his mind off of the thought of seeing Cas outside work this weekend. He can barely keep from checking him out at work. The two of them, alone, in Dean’s apartment? Impossible. Dean tries to imagine how it’ll start: Cas will come over, both of them will probably be a little awkward but they’ll at least try to get some work done. But once it’s quiet, once there’s no anxiety for Dean to focus on, there will just be Cas’s lips and his eyes and his body. Dean wonders if Cas will have any of the same awkwardness, or if it’ll just be Dean, trying desperately to stay civil. How can anyone stay civil around Cas, let alone people who have slept with him? All Dean can think about when he sees the guy is how his body would feel pressed up against Dean’s, the rough way his stubble feels on Dean’s face, and how his mouth feels inside and out. Dean groans as he feels blood rush to his cock. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep his thoughts PG if he’s alone with Cas, especially with all the confusion on whether or not there’s any reciprocation. Which there’s not. Damn Sam and Charlie for putting that thought in his head. 

Dean stands, trying to keep his thoughts off of Cas’s ass for a minute to calm himself back down. He wanders to the kitchen and back without grabbing anything, and turns the TV back on, determined to think of anything else. He flicks through channels until he finally lands on one he likes, and his brain is once again back in his control for the time being. 

Just as Dean is settling down, he gets a text. 

Received 6:48 PM: Hello Dean, it’s Castiel. I wanted to make solid plans for this weekend to work on the project, if you’re still willing. 

Dean groans louder. Can’t he get a minute of peace? 

Sent 6:51 PM: Hey cas, yeah that’s probably a good idea. what were you thinking?

Received 6:53 PM: I have nothing planned for tomorrow, is there a time that works for you?

Sent 6:54 PM: tomorrow is good. maybe 2? 

Received 6:56 PM: 2:00 works. Do you mind if we use your apartment? Mine is not exactly prepared for guests at the moment. 

Sent 6:57 PM: yeah that’s totally fine! I’ll send you the address

Dean breathes out, trying to exhale some of the tension building in his chest as he sends Cas his address. Now their plans are set. No getting out of it or ignoring it. But hey, maybe it’ll go well, and they’ll just do work on their project and get a little closer as friends. 

...Or, maybe Dean will misread a sign and say something stupid, and their relationship as anything more than coworkers will be totally destroyed. 

Maybe he should give Sam a call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> calling this the 'shut up' chapter. sometimes there's just nothing better to say when your friends are being dicks, y'know?
> 
> so what do you guys think so far? what's gonna happen on Saturday? who knows?? (I knows.) 
> 
> also, trying to upload more. I should have a little more time now that the holidays are over and I'm still on break. in the meantime, tell me your opinions and thoughts :D


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Dean wakes up already stressed. Going to sleep last night was a struggle, because the anxiety of what’s going to happen today had kept him up for hours. Now, in the morning, Dean can stress even more in the time before Cas shows up. Last night, Sam told him not to worry about it, because they’re just doing work. He also did a good job of distracting him by telling him that Jess had said yes -- not that Dean had thought for a second she wouldn’t. He talked to Jess for a while after that too, and the whole conversation was pretty great. He’s lucky to have her as a sister. But, as soon as the phone call ended and Dean was alone with his thoughts, the stress came back in full force, and it hasn’t left since. 

Dean gets out of bed and into the shower, hoping the hot steam will evaporate some of the worry from his body. It helps a little, and he’s not quite as tense when he gets out, if still a little tense. He also succeeded in killing some time, as it’s now already 11 AM. Torn between freaking out about how little time there is before Cas gets here and wondering how he can possibly fill the time between now and then, Dean decides to run to the store and buy some stuff to make burgers. He makes a mean burger, and he’s not sure how long Cas will be there. Better safe than sorry. 

By the time he returns with the ingredients, it’s about 12:30. Still fighting to ignore the stress building on his shoulders, Dean busies himself with tidying his apartment for as long as he can. Before he knows it, his phone dings with a text from Cas.

Received 1:42 PM: I should be there in 15 minutes. 

Sent 1:43 PM: okay, sounds good. 

Dean paces his apartment, picking up the last traces of mess. What if it smells bad and he doesn’t even know, because he’s gotten so used to it? What if Cas shows up with a ton of work done already and Dean looks like a total slacker? Oh god, what if Dean gets hard? 

He’s finally distracted from his thoughts by a knock at his door. Oh shit. Dean walks over to the door and opens it, his heart pounding. Cas is there, holding a backpack by the top handle. 

“Hey,” Dean says with a smile, trying as hard as he can to be normal. “Come on in, make yourself at home.” 

Cas nods and slides past Dean into his apartment. Dean closes his eyes briefly as he feels Cas’s body heat on his chest. Fuck, this day is going to last forever. 

“You can put your stuff wherever,” Dean says, closing the door and turning to Cas, looking around his living room. 

“Thank you,” Cas says. “You have a lovely apartment.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not much, but it’s basically all I need.” 

“It’s certainly better than mine. Sorry I didn’t offer to host you, by the way. My brothers recently stayed at my apartment and nearly destroyed it.” 

Dean laughs. 

“Your brothers sound fun.” 

Cas shakes his head, but he’s smiling. 

“They can be dramatic, and rude at times. But they are very loyal.” 

As they talk, Cas sits on Dean’s couch, setting his bag of stuff in front of him. Dean sits on the couch as well, about a foot away.

“I mean, that’s all you can ask for sometimes. I’m lucky I’m so close with my brother,” Dean says. 

“I am close with Gabriel and Balthazar, but not so much with the other members of my family. Do you have any other siblings?” Cas asks. Dean opens his mouth to answer, but changes track.

“Wait. _Balthazar_?” 

Cas chuckles.

“Yes, my family is rather religious. My siblings were named after angels, some of them obscure.” 

“Damn. I mean, Gabriel I get, but I never knew there was an angel named Balthazar. What a mouthful.” Dean pauses. “You said you weren’t close with your other siblings, is that because of the religion thing?” 

Cas fiddles with the zippers on his bag and doesn’t answer. Dean realizes he’s basically grilling the guy on why he doesn’t talk to his family, like a total asshole.

“I’m sorry, that’s super personal. I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s alright,” Cas says, turning back to Dean. “I understand the curiosity. And although that is a small part of it, no, I don’t believe it’s the main issue between us.” 

He doesn’t elaborate, and Dean doesn’t press the issue. 

“So, we should probably talk about the project, right?”

“We should.” 

“Let me go grab my laptop,” Dean says standing up. He gets halfway to the kitchen before stopping and turning back. He sees Cas’s eyes dart up to meet his and a faint blush blossoms on Cas’s face. Was he just checking out Dean’s ass? 

“Did you want anything to drink?” Dean asks, trying to pretend he doesn’t see Cas’s guilty face. 

“Water... would be great,” Cas replies, quickly turning to his bag to pull out his computer. Dean nods and turns back around, trying to wrap his head around how to feel about that. Maybe Sam and Charlie weren’t just lying to make him feel better, after all. 

A few hours later, Dean and Cas have gotten some good work done on their project. The more time they spent in each other’s company, the more relaxed they got, and the tension had mostly resolved by now. 

“Ugh, I need a break. How long have we been doing this?” Dean groans, slumping back on the couch. Cas checks his watch.

“It’s almost six, so nearly four hours.” 

“ _Four hours_?” Dean asks incredulously. “Jesus. I need some food.” 

Dean stands up and heads to the kitchen.

“You alright with burgers?” 

“Yes, please,” Cas calls back. Dean hears him stand up from the couch and follow him into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even realize how hungry I am. I don’t think I’ve eaten today,” Dean muses, pulling out the ground beef from the fridge after washing his hands.

“You haven’t eaten at all? It’s 6 o’clock!”

Dean laughs.

“I know, I know. I was a little stressed out this morning, and I guess I just forgot. Would you mind cutting up a tomato while I shape the patties?” Dean asks, glancing to Cas behind him. Cas nods, heading to the sink to wash up as well. 

“What were you stressed about, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

Dean pauses, holding a lump of ground beef in his palm. 

“Well, uh, I was kind of worried about how today would go. I mean, after the last time we talked I didn’t know if you really liked me that much.” 

Cas walks up next to Dean, putting a tomato on the cutting board in front of him. Dean suddenly wishes he had a little more counter space in his tiny apartment. When Dean moves to flatten the beef, he brushes against Cas’s shoulder and flinches a little at the contact. 

“I didn’t mean to give that impression. I was just worried that the same thing that happened at my old job would happen again. I thought that some distance between us may be the best option to ensure that it wouldn’t,” Cas explains. 

Dean nods, processing what Cas is saying. Does that mean that he wanted to make sure Dean wouldn’t make a move and jeopardize Cas’s job? Or did it mean that Cas wanted to stay away from him so he didn’t make a move on Dean? 

As he’s mulling this over, he drops a patty into the frying pan, appreciating the hiss that results. He throws the other one on and leaves them, grabbing the lettuce and pulling a few pieces off.

“You keep saying you thought. Like, past tense. Does that mean that you think s-” Dean is interrupted by his phone ringing loudly in his pocket. 

“Oh shit, sorry. I thought I turned off the ringer,” he says pulling his phone out. The caller ID reads ‘Sam’. “Dammit, it’s my brother. Do you mind if I take this? I just want to make sure nothing bad happened,” Dean asks sheepishly. 

“No, of course not. I’ll keep an eye on the food,” Cas says, waving him off. 

“Okay. Thanks, man. Sorry.” 

He steps out of the kitchen and into the living room, bringing the phone up to his ear.

“What is it, Sam?” 

“Jeez, nice to talk to you too.” 

“I’m making dinner. And Cas is here.” 

“Ah, I see. I’ll make it quick. I just wanted to let you know that Mom called today. I guess she and Dad wanted to see me because of the whole wedding thing, and they’re going to stay up here for like a month or two.” 

“Both of them? When are they coming?”

“Next week. Mom said Friday.” 

Dean sighs, leaning against the wall behind him. 

“Are they staying with you?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

Sam doesn’t continue, which Dean knows means that they could very well show up unannounced on Dean’s doorstep. 

“Okay,” Dean says. “...Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course. And hey, you can always tell them to leave. It’s your place.” 

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Sammy. Talk to you later.” 

“See ya.” 

Dean hangs up the phone and sighs again, closing his eyes. Friday now hovers in his mind like a dark cloud. He tries to push it to the back of his mind as he heads back into the kitchen, where Cas is vigilantly watching the burgers. 

“I haven’t flipped them,” Cas says, stepping back. Dean nods.

“Thanks again.” 

He rustles around in his drawers looking for seasoning while Cas stands there, watching him.

“Was your brother alright?” 

“Yeah. He was just letting me know that our parents are coming into town and they might end up staying with me.” 

Dean sprinkles his favorite spice combination on the burger after he flips it to reveal a lovely brown on the bottom. 

“And… you don’t get along with your parents?” Cas ventures. Dean glances at him, then back at the food.

“My dad. I used to try to do everything he wanted me to, before I realized that sometimes what he wants me to do isn’t what I want to do. He told me if I left for college instead of taking over his mechanic shop, I shouldn’t come back. He told Sam the same thing. We’ve all sorta made nice since then, but it’s a pretty delicate balance. I think Sam was warning me, because my dad has made his stance on anyone that’s not straight pretty clear: he thinks it’s unnatural and unmanly. And when he finds out that I’m not straight, he’s probably gonna flip his shit.” 

There’s a moment of silence, except for the hiss of the meat on the pan. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says after a second. “No one should have to worry about that from their family.” 

Dean shrugs. “Hey, the same kind of thing happened to you too, right?” 

Cas nods.

“That doesn’t mean that it should.” 

Dean chuckles, flipping the burgers again. 

“Yeah, that’s true.”

He turns to Cas, seeing the empathy on his face.

“Really, don’t worry about it. I have my brother and my mom, and my friends. My dad can be an asshole, and if he can’t accept me, I’d rather not deal with him at all.” 

Dean butters the hamburger buns and fries them slightly on the pan, adding the lettuce and tomato when they’re on the plate, followed by the finished burgers. He holds one out to Cas, who adds some condiments before returning to the living room. Dean finishes dressing his as well and follows him. 

“I hope your father surprises you with how accepting he is,” Cas says, sitting back down on the couch. 

“Yeah, me too. But whatever,” Dean says, taking a bite of his food. Damn, he makes a good burger. Cas nods and takes a bite as well. Dean watches for his reaction as he chews. Cas moans, holding his hand up to his mouth. 

“This hamburger is amazing,” he says, taking another bite. Dean laughs. 

“I’m good at what I do.” 

Cas moans again. Suddenly Dean is hit with a flashback to another time Cas made that same noise.

“Oh my god,” Dean says, flushing. “I think that’s the same noise you made the night we met.” 

Cas chokes on his bite of burger. 

“No, seriously,” Dean continues. “I’m pretty sure you made that exact same noise when I--” 

He stops, realizing that he’s thinking about that memory a little too hard. If he continues, he might end up with a problem. 

He blushes, looking at Cas, who seems to be tinted the same shade. 

“Uh, sorry,” he says. “You probably want to forget that.” 

Cas finally swallows his bite of food. 

“It is a _really_ good burger,” he says. 

Dean sets his plate on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Hey, when we talked the other day, you said something about how drunk I was that night, right?” 

Cas doesn’t say anything, but looks at Dean with wide eyes.

“Did I, like… I mean, nothing embarrassing happened that I don’t remember, right?” Dean asks.

Cas tilts his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I guess I have... some pretty good memories of that night, but like you said, I was really drunk. So do you… like, I mean… was it any good for you?” Dean asks with a grimace, afraid of the answer but too curious not to ask. Cas sets his plate down. 

“Dean, believe me when I say it was _very_ good for me. Although I was also far from sober, from what I recall, it was certainly one of the best… One of the best.” 

They stare at each other for a second. Dean flicks between Cas’s eyes and his lips a few times before Dean turns away. 

“Alright. We better talk about something else,” he chuckles. “Or I might accidentally make this, uh, weird, y’know?” 

He shuffles where he’s sitting, feeling himself start to get hard. He glances at Cas, whose eyes are fixed on him. Cas’s eyes shift down to Dean’s crotch and back. 

“And what if I said I didn’t have a problem with that?” Cas asks, moving closer to Dean, whose whole body is getting hotter by the second. “What if I want to be a little... unprofessional?” he whispers, inches from Dean’s face. Dean feels Cas’s breath on his cheek, and he turns so their faces are so close their noses are almost touching.

“God, I hope you mean that,” Dean says. Cas smiles.

“I promise,” he breathes. 

Suddenly the gap between them is closed, and all Dean knows is that Cas’s mouth and his smell and his heat are all that matters. Dean opens his mouth and their tongues meet, drawing out a moan from Dean. He feels Cas’s hands on his back, pulling him closer, and Dean reaches out to pull Cas’s waist with one hand and run his fingers through Cas’s hair with the other. Cas swings a leg around Dean and straddles his lap, sitting right on Dean’s cock. Dean breaks the kiss and moans. Cas grins.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stay away from you,” Cas says, lowering his mouth to press kisses on Dean’s jaw and neck. “I wanted to jump you the moment I walked in here today.” 

“You think you had it bad? Imagine the hottest guy in the world showing up to your apartment and checking out your ass, but he’s still off limits,” Dean says, running his hands under Cas’s shirt and up his back. 

“Ah, you did catch that.” 

Dean chuckles.

“Pretty hard not to. I appreciated it, though.” 

“How am I not supposed to look?” Cas protests, sitting up straight. “Have you seen yourself from behind?” 

“Probably nothing compared to you,” Dean says. Cas opens his mouth to protest, but Dean squeezes his ass, and Cas’s words turn into a small moan and a smile. 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Cas says, leaning down to capture Dean’s lips. Dean has no protests to that.

Cas’s stubble rubs on Dean’s face in a way Dean has now decided is his favorite. He pulls Cas’s soft hair gently and Cas moans into his mouth. Dean is about to tease him a little when Cas grinds his ass into Dean’s crotch, shutting him right up. He squeezes Cas’s ass again and pulls him down on his cock, making both of them groan. 

“What do you say we move this to my bedroom?” Dean suggests, kissing Cas’s neck. Cas tilts his head to give Dean more access and sighs.

“Is there a problem with the couch?”

Dean chuckles. 

“No, but there’s no lube here either.” He pulls Cas’s head down so he can bite his ear. “And I’m really looking forward to remembering fucking you this time.” 

Cas shivers and lets out a breath. 

“That... is a great point. Where did you say your bedroom was?” 

Cas slides off Dean’s lap and stands up. Dean follows suit and grabs Cas’s hand, pulling him in again for a kiss. He backs up, leading Cas to the bedroom without breaking the kiss before bumping into a wall. 

“Ow.” Dean rubs the back of his head.

Cas laughs and follows Dean as he leads down the hall to his bedroom. Dean’s hand is on the doorknob when he feels Cas’s arms snake around his waist, and one arm reaches down to his crotch. He backs into Cas and moans, letting his head fall back on Cas’s shoulder. Cas licks and nips at Dean’s neck and continues rubbing his cock through his pants. 

“Cas,” Dean moans. 

“Mhmm.” 

Dean can feel the vibration of Cas’s voice on his neck.

“The door is right here. There’s lube and a bed literally on the other side of this door.” 

Cas stills his mouth to answer, although his hand continues palming Dean through his jeans.

“Hm. Seems far. What if I just make you cum right here?” Cas growls, gripping Dean’s cock a little harder. Dean moans loudly. Cas runs his other hand under Dean’s shirt and drags his nails down Dean’s chest. 

“You could,” Dean breathes. “Believe me, you could. But I _really_ wanna fuck you, and that might be hard if we don’t go in my bedroom.” 

Cas hums his relent and drops his hands, letting Dean open the door. Dean turns around as he pushes the door open, and Cas kisses him again. The two of them back up until they hit the bed. Dean lets himself fall on it, and Cas climbs back on his lap, grinding on his cock again. Dean sits up, rolling Cas over so his back is on the bed. Dean kisses him deeply before standing up, leaving Cas breathing hard. 

“Where are you going?” Cas asks, watching him from the bed.

“Not far,” Dean says. “Lube is in the nightstand.” 

Cas grunts his disapproval, scooting up the bed so he’s not hanging off the edge anymore. Dean rummages through the second drawer, not finding the lube.

“I’m not waiting,” Cas says. Dean hears his pants zipper go down. Finally, in the very back of the drawer, he finds the lube and a condom. He turns, supplies in hand, to see Cas splayed out on his bed with his cock in one hand. Dean almost drops the lube. 

“Oh shit,” he says. Cas opens his eyes and looks up at him. 

“Coming?” 

Dean practically leaps up on the bed. He admires Cas’s naked body, displayed below him like a work of art. 

“God, you’re so…” Dean stops himself from saying ‘beautiful’. Cas looks at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Are you gonna join the party, or are you just gonna watch?” Cas says, tugging on Dean’s shirt. Dean lets Cas pull it off over his head. Cas’s eyes skim down his chest, followed by his hands. There are little red marks from where Cas scraped his fingernails before, and Cas follows them with his fingers. Dean watches him, fascinated at how pretty he always seems to be. Cas looks up at Dean expectantly. 

“Pants?” Cas says to Dean’s confused look. 

“Oh,” Dean says, standing up and unbuckling his belt. He pulls his pants and underwear down in one movement, releasing his cock. He shivers at the feeling of the cool air on his skin. He looks down to see Cas’s eyes locked on his cock. Dean goes to get back on the bed, but Cas sits up and stops him.

“Stay there,” Cas says, getting off the bed. Dean watches him, confused, until he sinks to his knees on the floor. Dean feels another rush of blood to his cock as he realizes what Cas is doing. Cas looks up at him, meeting his eyes, as he kisses the side of Dean’s cock. He follows the kiss with his tongue. As he reaches the tip, Cas takes Dean’s cock into his mouth. Dean moans loudly, his head falling back. He feels the wet warmth of Cas’s mouth move down his cock, then back up. He reaches down and grabs a handful of Cas’s hair. Cas moans, looking like he’s exactly where he wants to be. Dean gently guides his head down his shaft again, and shivers run through his body. Cas takes the pace into his own hands and moves quicker, up and down Dean’s shaft. Dean moans. 

“Wait, Cas, stop,” Dean says, pulling Cas’s hair back a little. Cas stops immediately, looking up at him. “I don’t wanna cum yet.” 

Cas nods and stands as Dean catches his breath. 

“Fuck. We are doing that another time, though,” he says. Cas laughs.

“Agreed.” 

Cas lays back down on the bed and Dean climbs over him, grabbing the lube and squeezing some on his fingers. He rubs his fingers together to warm the lube as Cas slowly strokes himself, looking up at Dean. Dean reaches down to Cas’s ass, slowly and gently rubbing his lubed-up fingers against Cas’s hole. Cas’s breath hitches as one of Dean’s fingers slips in, stretching him out. Cas moans loudly, and Dean feels his cock respond. 

Slowly, Dean works Cas’s hole open until he’s three fingers in and Cas is writhing below him. 

“Put it in, Dean,” he pants. “Fuck me.” 

And who is Dean to say no to that? He pulls his fingers out and Cas whines, impatient as Dean rolls a condom over his cock and lubes himself up. 

Dean runs a hand down Cas’s side as he lines his cock up, squeezing Cas’s waist as he gently pushes the tip in. They both moan as Dean presses further. When Dean is fully inside him, Cas’s eyes flick open and he locks his stare with Dean as he slowly pulls his cock back out again. Dean thrusts in a little faster, and continues picking up the pace little by little until he’s slamming into Cas. He adjusts his position so Cas is moaning every time he thrusts in, hitting Cas’s prostate. Dean groans, closing his eyes and just focusing on the feeling of Cas around him. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to remember it. 

Cas’s hand reaches up to grab Dean’s shoulder, the other on Dean’s waist, pulling him in closer. Dean leans down over Cas, breathing heavily against his neck, as Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair before reaching down to stroke his own cock. 

“Dean,” Cas whimpers. Dean nods into Cas’s neck, giving him permission. Cas’s back arches and he cums, and Dean feels it hit his stomach and chest. Cas’s hole tightens around him and that’s enough to push Dean over the brink, too. He thrusts in one last time, his whole body shaking as he cums with a loud moan. He breathes hard, slowly pulling out of Cas. Cas shivers as Dean pulls out, running a hand down Dean’s back as he ties off the condom and tosses it into his bedside trash can. Dean rolls onto the bed next to Cas, both of them breathing hard as Cas’s cum dries on their chests. 

“We should probably clean up a little, huh?” Dean says once his breathing is under control, blinking to clear his vision. 

“Mmm. Maybe,” Cas replies. Dean sighs, standing up to get a towel from his bathroom. He wipes himself down, then returns to clean Cas up, too. 

“Thanks,” Cas mumbles. Dean can see that he’s fighting off sleep, even though it can’t be more than 9 o’clock. 

“You’re welcome to spend the night, if you want,” Dean offers, pulling on a pair of boxers from his wardrobe. This seems to wake Cas a little, because he sits up on the bed.

“No, I don’t want to intrude,” Cas says. Dean tosses him a clean pair of underwear. 

“You’re not intruding. We’re both tired. Plus, there’s still most of a burger out there that you didn’t eat,” Dean says, realizing as he says it that he should probably put those in the fridge so they don’t go bad. “I don’t wanna starve you.” 

Cas shakes his head at Dean’s half-assed excuse, but pulls on the clean pair of boxers and sits back down on the bed. 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

Dean smiles at him lazily, still tired, as he heads out to put away the leftovers. When he comes back, Cas is lying in bed asleep. Dean chuckles and pulls the covers over him, climbing in next to him. Cas rolls over as Dean turns off his lamp. 

“Thank you, again,” Cas says sleepily. Dean doesn’t reply, but he wraps his arm around Cas’s waist, pulling him close. He’s too sleepy to wonder if he’s going too far by cuddling with Cas. Before he would even have the chance, though, Cas backs closer into him and pulls the covers over them both, running a hand down Dean’s arm. Dean smiles into Cas’s hair, breathing in his scent.

Maybe this will fuck up their lives somehow -- maybe Dean’s dad will disown him, maybe they’ll both get fired, maybe something else -- but right now, right here, Dean can’t seem to care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new year's present ;)   
> I finally got to write some actual real dialogue between these two?? fucking finally??? also fucking, finally?? lol   
> haven't written smut in a LONG ASS TIME, hopefully it's not total trash lmao.   
> more to come and happy 2020!!  
> <3


End file.
